Morgan was watching him, silently.
He admired her commitment. He would have to acknowledge her at some point, but he would give himself a few more minutes to see if he couldn't find what he was looking for. He'd read for hours already, but with no success. If he'd had a better idea of where to look, it would have helped. Many men were arrogant, many had children, and many were evil. Finding a man to match Morgan's dream was not an easy task.
But it gave him the unexpected pleasure of yet more of her company, away from the distraction of her comrades and the annoyance of his brother. He wouldn't purposely drag out his search, but he would relish the time it took him.
He pushed aside the manuscript he'd been reading, rose, and walked about the chamber. He stopped in front of Morgan simply to see what she would do. She was as still as death. He smiled to himself and continued on, then came to a sudden halt. He reached out and picked a heavy book off a shelf where it lay, dusty and unused.
Something that might have been termed unease went down his spine.
He took the book back over to the table and sat down. He touched the book and it fell open to a page he hadn't called.
Gair, the black mage of Ceangail, lived a thousand years before he wooed and wed a princess of Tòrr Dòrainn. Seven children were born to them, six sons and a daughter.
Miach stared off into the distance. He knew of Gair, of course. He'd considered him more than a month ago as he sat in his tower chamber at Tor Neroche and contemplated that rather populated list of black mages who might have been responsible for his troubles. But Gair was dead, so he had dismissed him. Odd that now he should come across his name again in such a serendipitous fashion.
Miach frowned and continued to read.
In time, his lady wife realized that she could not change Gair's nature and she sought a way for him to destroy himself. When he proposed a journey to a place where he could prove to her his power, she agreed, though she insisted that her children remain behind. He refused. After much argument, she allowed the children to be brought, feeling sure she could protect them from whatever spells he might unleash.
He brought them to a well of evil. Sarait sent her children into hiding before he began his spell to uncap the well and prove his ability to contain it.
It geisered forth and swept over everyone there. Sarait managed to cover her eldest son from its effects, but it was not completely done. The lad crawled off into the forest, then lived long enough to find aid and tell his tale before he died.
Miach sat back, stunned. The similarities between that tale and Morgan's dream were too great to be dismissed. But why would Morgan be dreaming or Gair and his demise? And why would Gair's daughter know a spell or Camanaë, the spell that Morgan had heard the girl whisper?
Miach looked off into the darkness of the chamber's shadows. It didn't seem to him that the tale was that old. Rumors of Gair's evil, of his deeds and mischief were hundreds of years old, of course, but this tale of his ending… nay, it was much more recent.
Miach rested his hands on top of the manuscript. Gair's death was definitely during his lifetime. A pity the eldest lad had not survived longer than merely to tell his tale. He could have said much about his father and the circumstances surrounding his death, as well as a few other interesting details.
Such as whether or not his sister had survived.
Miach continued to leaf through the book, but found no listing of the names of the children. That wasn't a complete surprise. The records in Chagailt were of a broader stroke than might have been kept in other places.
He contemplated that for quite some time, idly turning pages, when his eyes fell upon something else.
…given to Nicholas, the wizard king of Diarmailt, whose wife and five sons were killed by Gair, for Nicholas was wed to Sarait's elder sister…
Miach was startled by a terrific noise coming from the corner where Morgan was sitting. It took him a moment to pull himself back to the present. He blinked for a moment or two, then looked at Morgan.
"Hungry?"
Morgan swore. "Starving. "
"You could come sit by the fire. Or we could go hunt for a meal in the kitchens."
She undid her spell with a shiver, then rubbed her face with her hands. "I don't know if I would make it to the kitchens. I'm not sure I'll make it to the fire." She groaned as she stood and limped over to sit down next to the hearth on a stool.
Miach shut the book. There was indeed more to Gair's tale than he'd remembered, but he set it aside for the moment. First he would feed Morgan, find out why she had followed him, then spend the day with her if she liked. There would be time enough that night to find out more about Gair and his doings.
"How long have you known I was there?" she asked.
"Not long," he lied.
She looked at him narrowly. "In truth?"
"You're very good."
She frowned. "I used the spell." She paused. "I was desperate for some kind of concealment."
